


Why'd You Have to Go and Make Things so Complicated?

by nazgularepeopletoo, No_Day_But_Today



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Drama, Medical Dialouge, Multi, based on an rp, its gay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-22
Updated: 2018-06-29
Packaged: 2018-12-05 07:15:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,776
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11573067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nazgularepeopletoo/pseuds/nazgularepeopletoo, https://archiveofourown.org/users/No_Day_But_Today/pseuds/No_Day_But_Today
Summary: Everyone knows that there's a lot of tension between Grantaire and Enjolras, but does anyone know why?





	1. Why'd You Have to Go and Make Things so Complicated?

Grantaire was drunk. Again. This wasn’t surprising, though; he almost always was. Tonight it was worse because this time there was no one to stop him. All of his friends were out studying, or flirting, or God knows what and he was completely alone. He had most likely completely drained his allowance by now and was slowly building up credit. The owner of the establishment was probably getting ready to throw him out into the snow, and in his spifflicated state, he would probably freeze before he found his way home. But, you know what? He couldn't care less.  
The bartender came up to the table in the corner where Grantaire was sitting. Here it comes.  
"Sir," the man said. "I'm going to have to ask you to pay your tab or leave." Grantaire gazed up at him, only half understanding his words.  
"Whaa...?" The bartender nodded to two men, who came and stood on either side of him. Grantaire giggled and held out his arms complacently. The two men each took one and dragged him through the bar to the front door. There, they threw him out head first into a snow drift, causing him to knock a passerby over in the process. 

He became vaguely aware of someone pulling him out of the snow and forcing him to walk. He looked up and stared at them for a few minutes before realizing it was Enjolras. He stood up straight, suddenly half sober. Heat flooded his cheeks and he stared at the ground, extremely aware of Enjolras' arm around his waist. This was fine, this was totally fine. Except it wasn't, at all. Grantaire took a deep breath, trying not to let the panic that flooded his mind show outwardly and, despite his half drunk state, he did fairly well. Hundreds of thoughts were whizzing through his head and he couldn't focus clearly on anything except Enjolras. Enjolras who was holding his waist tightly and helping him walk. Enjolras who was helping him to get home. Enjolras who was carrying a large pile of books. He wanted to help Enjolras with his books, or at least a part of him wanted to help, but he didn't trust himself to not drop them and himself onto the slush covered ground. Once they reached the front door of his apartment building, Grantaire stopped, not wanting Enjolras to let go. He cleared his throat and managed to speak without slurring.   
"Thank you for walking me home..." Oh shit, that sounded awkward. He slipped out of Enjolras' grip quickly and stumbled up the stairs to his rooms, hating himself.   


* * *

 

Enjolras stared sullenly at all of the books scattered across the table. He was using them to draft yet another letter to the press, attempting to expose the bourgeoisie’s economic recklessness and rally the people to join the cause. This was his tenth letter to the newspapers, and still none of them had been published. Doubt began to creep into his mind. How could they reach the proletariat if no one would publish their letters? How could their revolution succeed if no one was aware of it? What if all of this planning and work was for naught? Enjolras sighed and closed his books in defeat. Maybe tomorrow would be a better day. He packed up his things and started towards home.   
Enjolras was wallowing in his frustration and sorrow when a figure was thrown into him, knocking him down into the snow.   
"What in the name of..." he looked down and saw a very drunk Grantaire, stuck headfirst into a pile of snow. The man was sprawled out, mumbling and giggling incoherently.   
"Grantaire?" The man in question responded only by giggling. Enjolras sighed, hauled himself to his feet, and picked Grantaire up.   
"Let’s get you back home." They began their slow trek, one holding the other up. If he was asked how he thought his night would have gone, this sequence of events never would have crossed Enjolras’ mind. If was honest with himself, he probably should have been angry about this turn of events, but he found himself more concerned about Grantaire than anything else. He wondered what possessed his friend to get blackout drunk every other night - it just can’t be healthy.

Enjolras was nearly thrown off balance when Grantaire suddenly straightened up and began to actually put some effort into walking. Thank God for that, because they were only half way to Grantaire’s apartment and his arms were killing him. If possible, Grantaire’s already flushed face turned even redder and Enjolras couldn't for the life of him figure out why. They continued walking the rest of way in silence, not knowing what to say to say to one another. 

Once they reached Grantaire’s building, Grantaire abruptly wrenched himself out of Enjolras’ grip.

"Thank you for walking me home..." Before Enjolras could respond, Grantaire spun around, ran into his building, and slammed the door. Enjolras was left standing outside, cold and confused. Why would Grantaire just run away from him like that? Maybe he just wanted to be alone? Yes, that was it, he just wanted to be alone. 

Enjolras began his trudge home; a good two kilometer long walk now that he had had to take Grantaire home. Since he was going to be walking for so long, he distracted himself from the cold by thinking of more ways to reach out to the people of Paris. Perhaps writing more letters under different pseudonyms? Passing out more pamphlets? Posting fliers around the city? Unfortunately, he was unable to come up with many ideas, as every few minutes his mind kept wandering back to Grantaire. Why would he just leave like that? He thought that he and Grantaire were friends? Well, if not friends, at least civil acquaintances. He’d never been able to decipher Grantaire’s moods in the past, so why was he so concerned with this now? 

Enjolras was soon startled out of his thoughts by a conversation coming from a nearby alleyway. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard the sound of punches being thrown and then the voice of girl - his heart rate increased. He quickly turned on his heels and ran into the alley towards the sounds of fighting.

When Enjolras reached the alley, he saw a large, obviously drunk man backing a girl and a child into a corner. He wasted no time in rushing over to, well, he wasn’t really sure what to do. He wasn’t a particularly great fighter, he was usually the one that got other people to fight for him. If he was going to win this fight, he’d need to find some sort of weapon. He remembered seeing a flat of wood near the opening of the alleyway, maybe that would work. He ran back and grabbed the wood palette, before quickly rushing back over to where the drunk was. He hoisted the wood up, and with all his strength, smashed the wood over the drunks head. The man crumpled to the ground immediately, unconscious.  Enjolras grabbed the girl’s hand to run away, but she pulled away from him. 

"Wait! Gavroche!" The girl released his hand and ran back over to the child, evidently named Gavroche. She grabbed his hand, pulling him close to her side.

"Ponine, are we going home?" Gavroche asked.

"No. We’re not going back there anymore. We will just have to find somewhere to go for a little while." Enjolras, who had begun walking away, stopped and turned back.

"Excuse me, did you just say that you two have nowhere to go?" The girl hesitated.

"Well... we do, but it's not a place I’m going back to."   
"May I ask what your name is?" The little boy piped up before the girl could stop him.

"I'm Gavroche, and this is my big sister Eponine!"

"Well, you two can't be left out on the streets, you’ll freeze to death!  You two are welcome to stay with me tonight at my apartment. It’ll keep you out of the cold for a while."   
"Well, I don't know if that's the best idea..." Eponine backed up, unsure of the man’s intentions. He may have saved her, but that didn't mean she owed him anything.

"I'm not going to hurt you.” Enjolras put his hands out, trying to be as unthreatening as possible. “Please, come with me for the night and then we can find a place for you to go in the morning. It looks like it’s going to snow some more tonight, and, like I said, you two could freeze to death before morning. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself knowing that I could have helped you in your hour of need. "   
"...Okay." Eponine nodded, hoisting Gavroche onto her back and following the man reluctantly. She kept herself a step behind him at all times, so she could run if she needed to. After a moment of silent walking, she spoke up.

"So, what is your name?"   
"Oh, forgive me! My name is Enjolras." He glanced over at Eponine and noticed she was tensed up, as if she was waiting for him to hurt her.  Enjolras frowned, turning back to the road. Eponine nodded and fell silent again. After another minute, she went to check in on Gavroche only to see him fast asleep, his head on her shoulder. She smiled softly and kissed his head, whispering promises to him.   
"Don't worry Gavroche, we'll be okay. I’ll take care of you, I promise.”

The trio continued on their half-kilometer walk, all the while in silence. When they finally reached his apartment, Enjolras started a fire, which Eponine and Gavroche gladly huddled in front of. Enjolras began looking through his pantry for some food. He thought that Eponine and Gavroche looked too thin, as if they hadn't eaten in weeks - which was probably true.

* * *

Meanwhile, Grantaire paced back and forth in front of his mostly unused desk, occasionally taking a shot of brandy. 

Shot.

He was going to do it. 

Shot _. _

What was he talking about? 

Shot.

That idea is preposterous! 

Shot. 

He was going to do it. 

Shot.

Grabbing his coat, he bounded down the stairs and back out into the cold and snow. It was nearly two kilometers, but he made it in just 8 minutes. Just  _ standing _ outside of Enjolras' apartment was sobering. Damn him! He always managed to get like this around Enjolras; making him a coward, scared to try anything. But he had come this far. He wasn't going to chicken out now. 

He stalked up the stairs and knocked on the door. It wasn't fully closed and swung open at his touch. He stepped over the threshold and froze. There was Enjolras, standing in the front room with a girl and a small child. Grantaire blushed fiercely and tried to apologize, but no words would come out.

Enjolras looked startled, staring at the doorway with wide eyes. He blinked a few times.

"Grantaire... What are you doing here?"  The girl seemed to be wondering the same thing.   
"I..." he trailed off again as he glanced between Enjolras and the girl.   
"I'm sorry... I just..." He practically bolted down the stairs, stopping only when he got out the front door. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Of course Enjolras had a girlfriend! He was handsome, attractive, brilliant, wonderful... Grantaire blinked back tears and leaned against the wall. It had started snowing - but he didn’t seem to notice, letting the snow fall onto his upturned face.

* * *

 

Grantaire had run out the door. Why would he do that? Come all this way and then just bolt? Enjolras stood there for a moment before apologizing to Eponine and running after Grantaire. Enjolras found him leaning against the wall just outside of the complex's door.   
"Grantaire..." he trailed off. Grantaire looked up in surprise.   
"I have no clue what you thought when you walked in the door, but I swear to you, it’s not what it looks like. I found them in an alley about to get beaten to death by a drunk. They had nowhere to go. I’m just giving them a place to stay for the night..." Enjolras trailed off again. He looked at the ground, not knowing anything else to say, and not knowing why he had said all of that in the first place.   


* * *

 

Relief flooded through Grantaire's system at Enjolras' words and he heaved a sigh. He watched Enjolras stare at the ground, unsure of what to say. Reaching out, he gently lifted the other man's chin.   
"That’s a relief to hear," he said quietly, staring directly into Enjolras' eyes.

* * *

 

Enjolras stood in shock for a moment. He was confused.   
"Grantaire, what…?" he began to say until, from above, they heard:   
"Gavroche, get away from the window!"   
Grantaire took advantage of his distraction to pull him close into a kiss.  

Enjolras didn't know how to react, he just stood still, to shocked to move. The kiss didn't last long, but it was awkward. Enjolras blinked when Grantaire pulled away, speechless. He stuttered something and, in a shocked haze, walked back into the building. He closed the door and leaned heavily against it, leaving Grantaire outside. Enjolras was confused. Really confused. This was the first time he had ever kissed someone (or been kissed by someone?) and that someone had been Grantaire? Enjolras couldn’t even  _ comprehend _ what had just happened. He sighed and slowly made his way back up to his apartment.   


* * *

 

He was gone. Just like that. The tears that had threatened to fall before spilled over his eyelids and started down his cheeks. Shit. He wasn't as sober as he had thought. Heat flushed his face and he turned on his heel and ran away. Why the HELL had he done that? He would never be able to show his face at an ABC meeting again. He hated himself, and he hated Enjolras for blowing him off. When he got back to his apartment, he went straight to the cupboard. He definitely needed a drink.


	2. I See the Way You're Acting like Somebody Else Getting Me Frustrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me guys, it's been a year.

When Enjolras entered his apartment, he saw Eponine and Gavroche sitting on the sofa - Gavroche looking particularly guilty. He walked over and sat on the floor in front of the fireplace. He said nothing. He just sat there, head in  his hands, looking sad. Lost in his own thoughts - feeling horrifically guilty, sad, and most of all confused - he didn’t realize how much time had passed until Gavroche mumbled something, fast asleep. Blinking, startled by the sudden noise, he pulled himself to his feet, cracking his joints in the process. He turned to see his new charge, Eponine, curled up on the sofa, with Gavroche curled up on the floor near her. He cursed himself for not being a proper host. In a last ditch effort of hospitality, he scooped Gavroche up and placed him in front of the fireplace before covering both them with blankets. With a sigh, he headed towards his bedroom - hurling himself on his bed, not bothering to change his clothes, falling asleep almost instantly.

He dreamed of Grantaire that night. They were at the Musain - well, he thinks its the Musain at least. It’s a bit hard to recognize it without all of les amis - he’d never been in the cafe other than for a meeting. He can’t see anyone else there other than himself and Grantaire - not even a bartender. His attention is pulled back to his lone companion when Grantaire spoke.

“Enjolras…” He whipped around to face Grantaire, but was met with empty space. He whipped around again, but was only able to see Grantaire in his peripheral. 

“Enjolras, why won’t you look at me?” Enjolras whipped around again, desperately trying to look at Grantaire head on.

“Why won’t you look at me? Apollo, why won’t you look at me?” Grantaire’s nickname for him felt like a punch to the gut.

“Why Apollo?”

Enjolras jerked awake, sticky with sweat, panting as if he really had been frantically searching for Grantaire. The nightmare had shaken him - much more so than he would ever admit. He pulled himself out of bed, scrubbing the sleep out of his eyes and trying to will away the memory of his dream. He stumbled from his room to find something to eat, practically jumping out of his skin when he saw Eponine and Gavroche. He’d practically forgotten that they where there, he was too absorbed in his own thoughts. After collecting himself… again… he went to try and scrape together something for the three of them to eat. 

Unfortunately, upon greater inspection, his pantry contained a half eaten, stale loaf of bread and six apples, 2 of which were probably rotten. Well, it would have to do. He gathered up three hopefully not rotten apples, the stale half-loaf of bread and made his way back into the main room where he found Eponine awake, thinking aloud.

“Where are we going to go… we don’t know anyone, well except for ‘Pranasse, but I don’t think it would be good for Gav to be around him…” Enjolras cleared his throat to avoid startling her.

“Good morning.”

“Morning…”

“I have breakfast… I’m sorry I don’t have much food here currently.”

“That’s okay, we don’t usually have much…”

“I, uh… I couldn’t help but overhear earlier… but, uhm… I might have an idea for where you two could stay from now on.” Enjolras ran through a list of his friends in his mind, trying to find one that could take Eponine and Gavroche in. Combfere was much too busy to take anyone in, Joly was too much of a hypochondriac to live with new people, Feuilly just couldn’t afford it. Marius had a much too complicated personal life, Grantaire… no, Jehan already had a person living with him… So that leaves himself.

“You have nowhere else to go, so I would like to offer my flat. We will need to figure out sleeping arrangements, obviously, we can’t have Gavroche sleeping in front of the fire each night.”

“Monsieur… I don’t know what to say. Thank you.”

* * *

Grantaire hadn’t gotten home until late the night before. Like, really late. Like, the sun was rising late. A few hours after he had collapsed on his bed in a deep sleep, an annoying banging sound woke him up. He grumbled and stumbled to the door, only to open it to find his landlord glowering at him.

“Shit…”

“Shit is right, ya piece of scum. Ya owe me fer four months rent.” The man held out his hand. Grantaire stared at it.

“Ya don’t have it, do ya?” He took in Grantaire’s appearance - yesterday’s clothes, messy hair, reeking of alcohol. The landlord sighed and dropped his hand.

“I’m sorry son. I can’t afford to give you another month.”

“But-”

“No. You’re gonna have to leave. Clear out by tonight or I’ll have to force you out. Sorry.” He left. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshitshitshit. Grantaire closed the door and leaned heavily against it. What the hell was he going to do now? This was literally the only flat he could possibly afford. Maybe he could move in with someone… Combfere didn’t like him, Joly hated him, Feuilly couldn’t afford it, Marius was annoying, Enjolras… no. Maybe Jehan would take him… Yes, that was a good idea. He had a few hours before he had to be gone, there was enough time.

* * *

 

Jehan blinked awake at the sound of someone knocking on the door. He gently moved Courfeyrac aside and, throwing on a robe, went to answer the door. Grantaire stood there, somehow looking miserable and hopeful all at once.

“Grantaire! You look terrible!” The man in question glared at him, causing him to blush.

“S-sorry! Come in, please!” Grantaire came in and wasted no time getting down to business.

“I got evicted and I need a place to stay.” Jehan blinked.

“Oh… O-okay. I’m sorry…” Grantaire waited, staring at him.

“Oh!” Jehan blushed deeper. “Yeah, of course. You can stay here with us. There’s an extra room in the back.” Grantaire raised an eyebrow.

“Isn’t Courfeyrac using that room?” Jehan suddenly found the ground very interesting. Grantaire laughed and pulled his friend into a hug.

“Glad it worked out for you. And thank you kindly. I’ll be back shortly with my things.” He smiled brightly and went back out into the brisk morning.

* * *

 

A few days later, all of les amis were at a meeting, including Eponine. Enjolras was giving one of his speeches, occasionally glancing at Eponine. He was confused. The girl was blunt and sometimes rude - all traits he normally loathed - yet he still liked her. She and her brother made his flat seem more homelike, more alive. 

The meeting was going great, that is until Grantaire walked, er, stumbled, through the door. Enjolras stuttered to a stop as Grantaire burst through the door, startled by the sudden entrance. He began his speech again, albeit less passionately this time. He was now very self conscious with Grantaire around. Why did all of this have to happen now? Just before the revolution? Enjolras was pulled from his thoughts once again as Courfeyrac and Jehan began laughing with each other as Grantaire shoved them playfully. What was that all about?

* * *

 

Everyone was staring at him. He blushed and found a seat in the back corner, falling into the seat heavily. 

“Sorry I’m late,” He mumbled. “What did I miss?” He was fairly upset at Jehan and Courfeyrac for leaving without him. Even if he never really contributed at all and just sat in the corner drinking, he was part of the group.. Right?

Grantaire could feel the girl’s stare on him as he attempted to listen to Enjolras’ speech. It was quite good too, but Jehan and Courfeyrac kept distracting him. He shoved them playfully and told them to kindly shut up. This only made them giggle harder and their personal conference got more heated. What were they talking about?

After the meeting, when everyone was just milling about, Enjolras sat for a moment debating with himself. He was thinking about confronting Grantaire about what had happened the other night. He was going to go talk to him. No, that was a stupid idea, why make it more awkward than it already was? Enjolras’ mind was made up for him when he saw Marius walking toward him. He did not have enough energy in him to get into another debate about Napoleon today. He bolted up and began picking his way across the room to see Grantaire, who was having a rather animated discussion with Courfeyrac and Jehan. As he dodged friends, tables, and various other patrons, the discussion started getting more and more heated. Just as he was coming up on their table, Grantaire attacked Courfeyrac. Enjolras stopped for a moment, shocked. Grantaire, even when extremely drunk, never attacked his friends. Enjolras snapped out of his thoughts and began pushing his way through the growing crowd of spectators. When he reached the fight, he pulled Grantaire off of Courfeyrac - not without some difficulty. 

“Outside! All three of you! Now!” He began ushering all three of them out the door to find out what this was all about.

When Enjolras finally got the bunch of them outside the cafe, Grantaire was still struggling against Enjolras’ arms.

“What was that for!?” Enjolras blinked in shock. Did Grantaire seriously just ask him why he stopped him from attacking Courfeyrac?

“What was that for?! What, you don’t understand why I just had to pull you off of one your friends? Because, really, I don’t know why either! Please, enlighten me as to why on earth you would attack one of your friends.”

Grantaire was glad that the meeting was over. Jehan and Courfeyrac hadn’t stopped whispering once the whole time. He confronted them. 

“What the hell have you two been whispering about all night?” They exchanged guilty looks and Jehan blushed. Courfeyrac stepped in.

“It’s none of your business.” He looked smug.

“Well it obviously had something to do with me.”

“You have no proof of that.” 

A few more accusations were exchanged when suddenly Grantaire launched himself at Courfeyrac in a fit of drunken anger. Suddenly, Grantaire was pulled off of Courfeyrac, strong arms holding him back and pulling him toward the exit.

Jehan and Courfeyrac shuffled quickly outside, the latter holding the former’s lace edged handkerchief to his bleeding nose. Grantaire struggled against Enjolras’ grip, yelling at him to let him go. When they got outside, the other two boys huddled together, terrified of Enjolras’ temper and not wanting Grantaire to attack again while the man in question wrenched away from their leader and fixed a ferocious glare on him.

“What was that for?!”

“What was that for?! What, you don’t understand why I just had to pull you off of one your friends? Because, really, I don’t know why either! Please, enlighten me as to why on earth you would attack one of your friends.”

“They were talking about me and wouldn’t tell me what they were saying!” Jehan and Courfeyrac were attempting not to look guilty. It wasn’t working. Jehan blushed bright red and stared at his feet, Courfeyrac shifted uncomfortably.

“See?” Grantaire said angrily.Well, in Grantaire’s defence, it was hard to miss Jehan’s cherry red face. 

“Well, I still don’t see how that would cause you to attack them.” It was silent, everyone trying to keep their own secrets.

“What is it that you two were talking about?”

“Why?” Courfeyrac replied indignantly.

“I don’t see another way that this can be resolved, can you?”

“I-it’s personal…” Jehan said, voice pitched slightly higher than usual. 

“Not if its about me.” The growl terrified the young man further and he almost hid behind his partner. By this time, even Courfeyrac was starting to blush. He contemplated trying to escape, but Enjolras was faster than him and Jehan was sure to trip on something. So, he decided to tell the truth.

“WewerejustdiscussinghowobviouslyGrantairewasinlovewithEnjolrasandhowadorableitwasandhowwewantedittohappen.” He said really quickly, unable to meet the eyes of either of the men he was talking about.

“WHAT?” Grantaire yelled. He seemed to understand the long ramble, and seemed to grow even angrier. Enjolras grew even more frustrated.

“What. Did. You. Say.” Both men cowered.

“WHAT DID YOU SAY!?” Courfeyrac and Jehan ran, bolting through the bar of the cafe and out the front door, with Enjolras following close behind.


	3. Life's Like This, You Fall and You Crawl and You Break

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uuuuuuuuuuuuuhgn

Courfeyrac yanked Jehan after him as he bolted back into the cafe to get away from the terror that was an angry Enjolras. He ran into Marius, knocking him to the floor.

“Sorry!” he called backwards as he dragged his lover after him. He could tell Jehan was struggling to keep up even as they cleared the front door. Darting down the street and into an alley, he stopped and pulled the other man close, gesturing to him to be quiet in hopes that Enjolras wouldn’t find them

* * *

 

Enjolras ran after the two men, past Marius who was on the floor. When they made it outside, he lost track of Courfeyrac and Jehan. He began to search through piles of stuff on the streets and in alleyways, in hopes of finding the two men. He needed to know what they were talking about, after all, he had heard his name somewhere in that ramble.

After what seemed like hours of digging through junk, stalking alleyways, and scaring far too many passerbys, Enjolras gave up his search for Jehan and Courfeyrac. Tomorrow, at the next meeting, he would find out what had happened. He walked back to the cafe, seething, to find only Eponine, Marius, and Grantaire remaining.

* * *

 

Grantaire stumbled into the cafe, blushing fiercely. God, he hated those two! Hopefully they wouldn’t kick him out… When he saw Enjolras there, barely containing his rage, he blinked. 

“I need a drink.” He grabbed a bottle of absinthe and went out the door, heading home.

Amazingly, he made it home at the same time Courfeyrac and Jehan did. Courfeyrac froze and stared at him, a light blush creeping into his cheeks, while Jehan, face already red from running, leaned heavily against the wall without making eye contact. 

“I… I’m sorry…” The former mumbled. Grantaire snorted and opened the door for the two.

“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, making a point of not apologizing for punching Courfeyrac. They filed inside and Jehan went immediately to bed. The other two sat at the table. Grantaire offered the bottle and, shrugging, Courfeyrac accepted it. Minutes later they were giggling like lunatics.

When there was a knock at the door, the two stopped laughing abruptly, only to start again a moment later, harder than before. Courfeyrac was completely, 100% drunk - and on the verge of passing out - so everything was funny. He managed to stumble to the door and opened it, using it to support his weight. Blinking he finally identified the man in from of him.

“Oh, hi Enjy!” Then he promptly passed out.

* * *

 

Enjolras watched as Grantaire grabbed a bottle of absinthe and left. He shook his head, that man was a slave to the bottle, he was never completely sober. He then turned his attention to the last two, sitting at a table. 

“Well Pontmercy, I see you’ve met my friend Eponine.”

“Yes, she’s quite the conversationalist. We’ve had a rather interesting talk.” Enjolras sighed. He just wanted to go home, not sit through a whole other conversation. Luckily, Eponine’s little brother - who was home alone - provided the perfect excuse to leave.

“I’m glad you two are getting along. Unfortunately, we need to be going along, we need to get home to little Gavroche. Have a good night, Pontmercy.” 

“Good night Enjolras, Eponine.”

“Goodnight.” With that, the started their long trek home. A few blocks away, Enjolras couldn’t hold his curiosity back.

“How did you end up talking to Pontmercy, of all people?”

“He came up to me shortly after the meeting, he said he wanted to meet ‘the new member’, though I think he was just happy to not be the new person.” Enjolras chuckled.

“That would be Pontmercy for you. He just seems like the exact opposite person you would get along with. He’s lived the exact opposite life that you have, for God’s sake, he loves Napoleon!” Eponine laughed in response.

“I don’t know, he just seemed kind.”

“Well -” Enjolras was abruptly cut off by a round of loud giggling coming from the building they were passing. Enjolras looked up toward the sound, only to find that they were standing next to Jehan’s building. Another round of laughter spilled out from the open window. That sounded like Grantaire… Enjolras looked at Eponine and gestured toward the building.

“Come on, we should probably go check that out.” They began walking up the stairs, the laughter getting louder with every step. Enjolras tentatively knocked on Jehan’s door, vaguely afraid of what he might find on the other side.

They stood there for a few moments before the door swung open violently revealing an extremely drunk Courfeyrac. Courfeyrac blinked a few times before smiling wide.

“Oh, hi Enjy!” Suddenly, Courfeyrac’s eyes rolled back into his skull and he promptly passed out cold on the floor. Another bought of giggles came from inside of the room. Enjolras and Eponine slowly looked up toward the voice. They looked up to find Grantaire laughing so hard he fell out of his chair. They carefully stepped over Courfeyrac and entered the apartment.

* * *

 

Grantaire broke into a new fit of laughter as Courf collapsed to the ground. He laughed so hard he managed to slip off of his chair, quite literally rolling with laughter on the floor. He slowly collected himself and hauled himself back into his chair. He wiped the tears from his eyes before looking at who was at the door, freezing when he saw Enjolras. He sheepishly raised his hand in greeting.

“Hiii…” He stopped and stared at them. Why was _he_ here? He didn’t know what to say or do and Enjolras was _right there_ and… 

“Do you want a drink?” He asked quietly, holding out the mostly empty bottle. He watched as Enjolras and the whispered. Grantaire tried not to pout. Why were they acting like he wasn’t here? 

Grantaire silently sulked as Enjolras and the girl hauled Courf, still blacked out, to his room before turning to him.

“Okay Grantaire, let’s get you home.” Grantaire giggled again before gesturing to the space around him.

“But Enjy, I am home! As a matter of fact, you just put Courfeyrac in my room. Because, you see, I was evicted last week and now I’m living in Jehan’s spare room! If you weren’t so blind you would have realized that they were in love and fucking each other!” Enjolras blinked, looking fairly stunned.

“Really? Have I been that oblivious?”

“Yes!” Grantaire shouted before nearly falling out of his chair again. Enjolras stood as still as a statue, seemingly still processing Grantaire’s words. He blinked a few times before looking towards Grantaire.

“Is… is that what they were talking about earlier tonight?”

* * *

 

Courfeyrac chose that exact moment to wake up again.

“Jehan…?” He sat up and glanced around before stumbling out into the hallway.

“Oh… It wasn’t a dream…” He said, noticing the other people in his house.

“Seriously Grantaire,” he added with a yawn, “when are you gonna man up and just  _ take _ him already?” And with that, he went to bed with Jehan.

Grantaire watched as Enjolras turned bright red - feeling his own face heat. He was going to die. He was literally going to kill himself. He was pretty sure that his face was redder than Enjolras at this point. Turning away so he didn’t have to face the other two, he tried to form a coherent sentence. 

“I, uh… Would you mind.. Uh…” He decided to flee to his room and lock the door. Courfeyrac was going to pay for that in the morning.

* * *

 

Enjolras had never been more embarrassed than he was in that moment. Suddenly, he thought he knew what Jehan and Courfeyrac were giggling about earlier. He felt his face turn even redder, if that was even possible at this point. He was startled when Eponine spoke, he had nearly forgotten she was there.

“Uhm... “ He cleared his throat.

“Uh… You should probably get home to Gavroche… I need, uhm, I think I should.... Maybe I should try and sort this out…” Eponine looked hesitant to leave him alone, but eventually conceded.

“Okay… Just… don’t stay out too late…” She quietly slipped out the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He was confused. He had hoped that the events of last week would blow over eventually. That they could eventually go back to being, well maybe not friends, but at least civil. Everything seemed so awkward, and now Courfeyrac had made it so much worse. He sighed before grabbing the bottle of absinthe and flopping down onto the sofa. Alcohol might not be the solution to his problems, but it made them much more bearable in the moment. 

Soon, a mixture of alcohol and exhaustion forced him into sleep.

* * *

 

Grantaire had depleted his stash of alcohol greatly and was thoroughly and utterly wasted. Not half sober like usual. Not even normal drunk. No, he was so drunk he was seeing the Green Fairy herself in his room. 

“I wish…” he said to her, “I wish that he wanted me.” He heaved a sigh and struggled to his feet. He needed a pick-me-up. Leaning heavily against anything sturdy enough to support his weight, he made his way to the living room, where he froze. There was Enjolras, sprawled out on the sofa. 

Grantaire managed to stumble to the sofa without falling and prodded his arm. Nothing happened. He glanced back at the Green Fairy and, at her nod, straddled the younger man and kissed him ferociously.

* * *

 

Enjolras suddenly woke from a dreamless sleep to someone on top of him, passionately kissing him. His eyes snapped open, but he didn’t dare move. It took him a moment to recognize that the person on top of him was Grantaire. He still didn’t move, slowly realizing that Grantaire was acting on the challenge Courfeyrac had presented earlier. Slowly, Enjolras started kissing Grantaire back, finding that he was enjoying the kiss.

* * *

 

Courfeyrac woke up, with a splitting headache, to Jehan shoving him off the bed. He managed to catch himself before crashing onto the floor with a bang. Pushing himself up, he glared at the little poet and made his way to the living room where he was greeted by a shocking sight.

“Oh! This is fun! Can I join?” He skipped out to the sofa and grinned like a maniac.

* * *

 

Enjolras and Grantaire were broken apart by an enthusiastic Courfeyrac. Enjolras jumped up so fast that he fell over the arm of the sofa with a shout.

“What the hell!?” Grantaire was murderous. He turned on Courfeyrac with anger blazing in his eyes.  Courfeyrac wasn’t stupid, he knew he had crossed a line. His eyes grew wide and he tumbled backwards. 

“I-I’m sorry! Please don’t hurt me… again!” That wish was not granted. With a growl, Grantaire attacked the smaller man in an alcoholic rage, tackling him to the ground. Courfeyrac screamed in terror.

Grantaire became a rampaging monster, attacking Courfeyrac, who screamed and pleaded, viciously. Enjolras jumped up and tried to break the two apart, however, Grantaire was latched onto Courfeyrac’s shirt and wasn’t letting go for the world. Trying to break them apart himself was useless. He stood for a moment, at a loss for what to do, before running to the bedroom.

“Jehan! Jehan! Wake up! You need to help me break them apart! Talk some sense into them! I don’t know, use your poetry or something!” Jehan rolled over and blinked at him groggily.

“What’s going on…?”

“What’s going on?! They’re fighting! Again! Help me break them apart! Maybe they’ll listen to you! I don’t know, charm them with some poetry! Tell jokes until they’re laughing to hard to fight! I don’t care, just help me break them apart!” Jehan seemed to think for a moment, blinking slowly.

“Hmm… No.” He said, and promptly rolled over and went back to sleep. Enjolras gave an exasperated sigh.

“You’re no help at all!” With that, he ran back out into the living room, where he found Courfeyrac bloody and barely conscious. He grabbed Grantaire by the back of the shirt and yanked. Unfortunately, Grantaire barely moved, continuing to pummel the man beneath him. Enjolras felt himself grow angry. This was the second time, in as many days, he’s had to pull these two apart.

“Grantaire! Enough!” He shouted, finally succeeding in pulling the man’s attention away from his prey. 

“Stop! You’ve successfully beaten him bloody. He’s learned his lesson.” Grantaire finally released the other man, who dropped limply to the floor moaning. Enjolras breathed a sigh of relief and collapsed backwards onto the sofa, his head in his hands.


	4. And You Take What You Get, And You Turn It Into

“The people of France need our help, we are the ones to change out Country.” The end of Enjolras’ speech was met with applause. Everyone was beginning to mill around, talking amongst each other. He made his way towards Grantaire and his other close friends, when he heard someone say: 

“Why do you look like you’ve been mauled by a bear?” He snickered, they must be talking to Courfeyrac.

“Shut up!” Yep. Courfeyrac. It had been a week and he still looked like crap.

“You have no idea how hard this has been on me! I haven’t had sex in a week!” Jehan giggled behind his hand. Grantaire smirked. Enjolras burst out laughing. Of course, as Courfeyrac said that, the entire room went silent. Everyone started dying laughing. Bousett walked over to Courfeyrac and put his arm around his shoulder.

“You, my friend, are sharing a bit much around a child aren’t you?” Gavroche looked up.

“What? I don’t understand.” At that, everyone began laughing again.

“What?” Gavroche said indignantly. Eponine was laughing at Gavroche’s naivete.

“Don’t worry, Gavroche. You’ll learn later.”

“But ‘Ponine! I want to know now!”

“No, ‘Roche. Later.” Gavroche pouted.

“Fine…” Everyone was still laughing intensely. Joly pat Gavroche on the head.

“Come Eponine, the child wants to know!” He dropped down to face the young boy and lowered his voice so Eponine couldn’t hear.

“If you really want to know, you can come talk to me later. Deal?” The little boy nodded.

“Good.” He could almost feel the boy’s sister glaring at him, stood, and offered her a smile. Throughout this exchange, Jehan was comforting Courfeyrac, promising him more later. This seemed to molify him for the time being as he slumped back into his chair with a wince.

Grantaire approached Enjolras, having almost completely forgotten the events of the past week when he regained sobriety.

“That was a stirring speech, fearless leader. It almost convinced me to start caring.”

“Well, if I can almost convince you, the man who believes in nothing, than I can convince the people of Paris to join our cause.” Grantaire was almost at a loss for words. Almost. A flush rose on his cheeks as a spark of anger burned in his chest. 

“I… Don’t turn this into something about the people of paris…” The anger fizzled out, replaced by shame and disappointment. What was he thinking? Enjolras would never want him. Enjolras’ face softened upon seeing Grantaire’s dejected expression.

“What’s wrong, my friend?” My friend? Did Enjolras really say that? Grantaire scoffed.

“My friend? I am not your friend, Enjolras. You’ve made that _very_ clear.”

* * *

 

Enjolras was shocked. Grantaire never snapped at his friends. Sure, he would make jokes and poke fun, but he never snapped.

“Wha- what do you mean? I’ve always been your friend Grantaire.”

“You use the term ‘friend’ so loosely. All of Paris is ‘your friend’! You put up with me, tolerate me, but you never want me here. I can see it in your eyes, on your face! Why must you torment me so!?” Enjolras could see tears welling up in his eyes. As soon as they threatened to fall, he spun around. Enjolras was dumbstruck. He had no idea what to say. Did Grantaire really think that? How long had he felt that way? He was about to stutter out a reply when a thought stopped him dead in his tracks. In the past, he  _ had _ barely tolerated Grantaire. They had nearly always fought, and he had constantly told Grantaire that he didn’t belong, that he believed in nothing so there was no reason for him to be there. God. What had he done? Why was he so confused? Why did Grantaire make him feel like this? Grantaire used to anger him, infuriate him beyond words - honestly, he still does sometimes - but now? Now, whenever he saw him Enjolras had the urge to kiss him, hold him, or something… 

“Grantaire… God… You’re right. I… I did tolerate you. That was… insensitive of me. I… I… the truth is that, now, I get… really confused around you. So, I… I guess. I guess I just… default back to being rude. I’m so, so very sorry.”

* * *

 

Grantaire froze. He… apologized? What? He spun back around and stared, mouth. A tear dripped down his face.

“You… What?”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been horrible to you. I’ve just been so… confused. Every time i see you… I just… I want… Oh, fuck it!” Enjolras then grabbed Grantaire’s face and passionately kissed him. Grantaire nearly died. When he finally regain control of himself, he pulled the younger man closer, threading a hand through his hair. He didn’t even notice the slight tightening of this trousers.

* * *

 

Bahorel, who had been alone in the corner, noticed this interaction and perked up. He glanced across to the next table at Feuilly, who was dozing from a long day at work. Standing and moving quickly, he grabbed the little red head by the collar, startling him awake. The smaller man stared up at him, confusion and slight panic entered his eyes. Bahorel gestured towards Enjolras and Grantaire. The fan makers eyes widened. With a grin, Bahorel closed the gap between them, kissing Feuilly roughly until the smaller man returned it with passion.

* * *

 

Feuilly was feeling very conflicted. On one hand, Bahorel was a really good kisser. On the other hand, he was almost 100% sure that Bahorel wasn’t gay. He brought a hand up to push Bahorel away, but just then, the larger man lightly ground their hips together, and he gasped, grabbing Bahorel’s collar and pulled himself closer. Bahorel took that opportunity to deepen the kiss, thrusting his tongue into the ginger’s mouth.

* * *

 

Bousett wasn't really paying attention to anything. He looked up from his book to see 90% of les Amis kissing. 

“Hey, Jolly.” He said, patting his lap indicating he wanted him to sit on his lap. Joly shrugged. He walked over and just sat down on Bousett’s lap, wrapping his arms around his neck. Bousett than put his chin on Joly’s shoulder and his arms around his waist, book in front of him, so he could continue reading. Joly snuggled closer to Bousett, glancing at the book he was reading.

“That looks boring.” He said, stealing it from his hands, flipping through it.

“Hey, give me my book back!” Bousett said playfully. When Joly wouldn’t give the book back, he went to tickle Joly, but instead accidentally knocked the chair over backwards. Touching the floor was a terrifying concept to Joly, so he let out a strangled shriek and latched onto Bousset, ensuring that sh stayed on top of his lover, essentially squishing him.

“Erm… Joly? You’re crushing me.” Joly just continued to freak out about touching the floor, ignoring Bousett. Bousett really only knew one surefire way to distract Joly, so he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him into a kiss.

Joly relaxed immediately when Bousett kissed him. Being careful to not touch the floor as much as physically possible, he crawled off of his lover and pulled him upright, then pushed him back into a chair and reclaimed his place on his lap, facing him this time.

* * *

 

Oh Lord, this wasn’t helping…! But, seriously, where did Enjolras learn how to kiss so well? He moved himself closer without breaking contact. He was thinking to much, he should just enjoy this.

Grantaire whined as Enjolras pulled away. He glanced murderously at whoever pulled them apart, soon learning that it was the boy.

“Excuse me, sir. Are we going home soon?” Enjolras blinked.

“Why don’t you go home with Eponine?”

“Oh, she left a while ago with Marius.” Enjolras and Grantaire shared a confused look, she went with Marius? Grantaire grew frustrated, he just wanted to go back to kissing.

“Why don’t you just go with Joly and Bousset?” Grantaire practically growled.

“They’re uh… busy.” The boy gestured toward the men in question, who were engaged in a rather aggressive makeout session. Oh. Enjolras leaned down toward the boy.

“Tell you what, why don’t you follow your sister and Marius? You could be like a spy…” The boy’s eyes lit up.

“I’ve always wanted to be a spy! I’ll go follow them right now!” And with that, the boy was gone - off into the streets, chasing after his sister. Grantaire practically sighed with relief. Why wouldn’t people just leave them alone? He turned back to Enjolras, suddenly very aware of how tight his trousers were.

* * *

 

Combeferre, who had been writing a pamphlet this whole time, and thus had no idea what was happening, added the last mark to his paper with an exclamation of satisfaction and looked up. His jaw dropped open. What? Even  _ Enjolras _ was kissing, and kissing Grantaire no less! There was absolutely zero talk of revolution, and, surprisingly, Jehan and Courfeyrac were the only ones not lip locked. This was ridiculous. 

Slapping his pen down, he stood and stormed out of the cafe, breaking apart Bahorel and Feuilly as he went. He was completely disgusted by their conduct, especially Enjolras. That was no way for a leader to act! When he walked in the front door, he realized that he had left the pamphlet and his pen behind. With a sigh he rubbed his wrist and went to bed. He could deal with it in the morning.

* * *

 

Feuilly gasped as he was forced away from Bahorel by an extremely angry and annoyed Combeferre. His mouth felt empty without the probing tongue, and his trousers were extremely tight. Their eyes met and then Bahorel grabbed his wrist and dragged him to an empty room in the back of the cafe.

* * *

 

Bousett jumped when he heard a door slam. He looked over and saw Feuilly nd Bahorel on the ground. He was about to go back to kissing Joly when Bahorel and Feuilly made their way to the unused back room. Bousett kept looking between the spot where the couple was to the door where they disappeared. After a bit, he laughed.

“Who knew Feuilly was gay?” Joly looked up.

“Hmmm?” his mind slowly comprehended his lovers words as he noticed a lack of people in one corner of the cafe.

“Not Feuilly, that’s for sure.” He giggled and rested his forehead against his lovers. Bousett laughed. It was true, Feuilly probably didn’t know he was gay until that little stunt with Bahorel. 

“They may have a good idea with that. It’s too bad that there’s only one back room in this place…” He said with a grin. Bousett blushed a little, surprised that Joly would be so direct.

“Well… it’s not too far to my place…” he trailed off with a gesture for Joly to get off his lap. Joly’s grin morphed into an animalistic smile as he stood and yanked Bousset out the door.

* * *

 

Courfeyrac glared at Feuilly and Bahorel as they closed and locked the door to the back room. He lightly punched Jehan on the shoulder, signaling he wanted to go home. Jehan grinned and helped him up and out the door.

 


	5. Honesty, And Promise Me I'm Never Gonna Find You Fake It

It was a week later and Enjolras was once again in the Cafe Musain. He was writing more letters to various newspapers. Again. This one he was particularly proud of. This was the one that would finally be published, he was sure of it. The one that would finally get out to the people of Paris.

He’d been working for hours, scribbling away at speeches, letters, and pamphlets - one of which he was very proud of. One of the amis - though which one he honestly couldn’t remember - had offered the pamphlet idea up, saying that it would help them spread the word. So far, he thought he had done a good job, however, he did have a habit of rambling on, turning the pamphlets into a written version of one of his speeches. 

‘Better to have one of the amis look these over,’ he thought to himself. ‘Maybe Jehan, he had the most experience with writing. Though he may also turn it into poetry…’

* * *

 

Combeferre cautiously entered  the Musain, weary of what he might find.  To his great relief, the only one there, engrossed in writing what looked to be a letter, was Enjolras. Good. He had had enough of emotion and confusion to last him for a while. After the events of last week he had been woken up at two in the morning by a pounding on his door. When he had answered it, he was almost knocked down by Feuilly, who was sobbing hysterically. After calming, he had refused to leave for two days, almost losing his job in the process. Since then, he had been dealing with both the fan maker and Bahorel, both of whom seemed to he cared. He didn’t. He really didn’t. Like, at all. At least now he could sit down with someone and talk sensibly about something as solid and straight forward as revolution. Maybe they would actually get something done.

* * *

 

Aimee was crouched down in an alleyway, waiting. The bread stall was just around the corner, she could smell it. Her stomach growled. It had been almost a week since she last had a meal. She was only eight years old, but she had been doing this for years, ever since mama got sick. She couldn’t even remember the last time her stomach was full. Her dirty hair stuck to her face as she waited.

‘Just a few seconds more…’ She bolted out and grabbed a small roll. Just as her hand closed around it, she heard the breadstall worker yell.

“Stop! Theif!” She spun around, terrified, to see a police officer running toward her. A hand grabbed her shoulder, tugging her. She heard a boy’s voice.

“Come on! We have to run!” He didn’t have to tell her twice. She took off as fast as she could, letting the mystery boy set their path. 

“This way!” He took her through twists and turns, the police getting farther and farther away. She was starting to think that this was a bad idea. She didn’t recognize anything, and she had to get home to mama soon. She couldn’t be gone lone or mama would worry and she would get even sicker. Though, soon enough, they entered the big square with the elephant statue in it - at least now she recognized where she was. She was promptly dragged into the statue, out of view from anyone in the square.

She finally got a good look at the boy who rescued her. She didn’t recognize him - though he did look dirty like her, so she at least knew he was a street kid. Currently, her rescuer was pressed to the wall, next to the secret opening, looking out onto the street. He was panting, though she had to be honest, she was panting too. They had run for a long time, longer than she had run in a long time. Suddenly, the boy whipped around to face her, grinning.

“I think we lost them!” he held his hand out to her. “Name’s Gavroche, nice to meet ya!” Amiee smiled, he seemed really nice.

“My name’s Aimee!”

“What’d you do to get the police after you?” Aimee turned red.

“Oh, I uh… I stole some bread. I was really hungry…” She showed him the, now smushed, roll.

“I guess even this was too much…” She sat down on the floor of the elephant, careful to avoid sitting in one of the puddles. 

“So, where are we? I never knew that this thing was hollow - or that you could get inside it. It’s really cool!” 

“Yeah, this is where me and my friends meet. We like to go cause trouble sometimes, so we need a place to hide when the police show up.” Aimee laughed, holding the roll out again.

“Do you want some?” He shrugged.

“Sure. I don’t remember when the last time I ate was, but I’m not really hungry much anymore.” 

They ate their bread in silence, happy to have something to eat. Suddenly Gavroche jumped up.

“I was supposed to meet Enjolras at the meeting hall. You should come, you can meet my friends!!” The two ran through the streets, giggling all the way. They finally reached a cafe that Aimee had never seen before. 

“This is the Cafe Musain,” Gavroche said “Come on! Let’s go inside!” He then proceeded on bursting through the door. It was bustling inside, the afternoon light filtering in through the dingy windows. Gavroche nudged Aimee and pointed across the room.

“That’s Enjolras.” The man in question was talking with someone else, and it seemed important. “Should we disturb them?” Aimee shrugged. “HEY ENJOLRAS!!” The boy shouted, waving his arm at the two men.

* * *

 

Combeferre sighed, rubbing his temples. Gavroche could be a great help sometimes, but they had actually been getting somewhere before he had come in. Plus now he had a friend… a girl who looked somewhat familiar. Like he had seen her before. 

“Hello, Gavroche, who is this?” He stood as he spoke, offering the little girl his seat. 

“My name’s Aimee.” Combefrerre looked to Enjolras, both wearing concerned expressions.

“Where are your parents, Aimee?”

“Oh, uh… I never met met my fathers… But mama’s taken care of me all on her own! She’s at home right now. She can’t go out much anymore so I went out on my own!”

“What do you mean she can’t go out anymore?”

“Oh, a couple years ago mama got sick, so I’ve been taking care of her ever since.” Combeferre frowned slightly. Where did he know this child from? Her mother was sick. Hmm. He cleared his throat and caught her attention.

“What is wrong with your mother? I’m a doctor…” not entirely true, “I can help.” The little girl jumped up, now standing on her seat.

“Really? You can help her?” She didn’t wait for a reply. “Come on! It’s not far!” She grabbed his hand and practically yanked him into the street. She led him through the city, eventually leading into the slums. Aimee led him into him decrepit building, pausing only long enough to announce that they had visitors. 

He knew this place… He couldn’t remember whym but he did. He also knew that he shouldn’t be here. He stopped short of the bottom of the steps, suddenly wanting to leave, desperately. Swallowing, he went up the steps and entered the dark room.

Marie looked up from the dress she was trying to repair when she heard her daughter’s voice. Aimee hadn’t been back in a few days, she had started to worry. She put down her sewing and smiled to herself. Struggling to her feet, she limped towards the door, being met with Aimee tightly wrapping herself around her legs. Marie chuckled.

“Aimee! Where have you-” She stopped short when she saw the figure in the doorway. Her smile disappeared. She was shocked.

‘He came back?” She slowly moved to lean against the wall, the shock was beginning to wear on her.

No. This was not happening to him. He knew where he recognized the girl from. He knew what house this was. It was Marie’s. He flashed back to nine years ago - an accidental meeting in a library that turned into something more. They had stayed together for almost a year until his father had made him leave. He hadn’t even said goodbye. He felt himself go pale and his hands begin to shake.

“M-Marie…” He silently cursed himself for his weakness and pulled himself together. He was a doctor here. Nothing else. He was about to speak again when the little girl - his girl - spoke up.

“Mama? Do you know him…? Mama?” Marie barely noticed her daughter, still staring at him.

“Mama? Mama? Did you hear me?” She suddenly shook herself and turned to her daughter.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Do you know him? Why does he look so surprised? Why do you know the doctor? What -”

“A doctor?” She turned to him now, “Is that true?” He couldn’t look at her. He couldn’t. 

“I… Well I’m still studying…” He glanced around at the sparse room and his heart broke a little more at what he had left her with, which was practically nothing. Suddenly, Marie laughed.

“Did Aimee bring you here thinking I need a doctor? We do fairly well on our own.” Anyone with eyes could see that that wasn’t true. She placed a hand on Aimee’s head, smoothing down her hair.

“If only little Aimee wouldn’t run about so much…”

“She said her mother was sick,” he said quietly. He knew that she would refuse any monetary help he tried to give, but she might take his medical help. “What seems to be the problem? Where does it hurt?” Wow was that a loaded question.

“A… A while back I broke my leg, and it never quite healed right. So, sometimes -” His eyes grew wide as she cut herself off in a fit of coughing, stumbling a bit. 

Catching her so she wouldn’t fall, he gently led her back to her chair, ignoring the jolt of guilt that went through his system when he touched her. He could guess why she had laughed. He knew where it hurt. Wanting nothing but to run away, he set down his bag and grabbed her a blanket. He glanced down at the blanket after covering her with it, only to find it speckled with blood. She tried to move it, hide it from him. It was futile. He’d seen it. His face went white. 

“Marie…” he took hold of her hands, to still them. “How long has this been going on?” The worry crept, unbidden, into his voice. Consumption… The word rang in his mind and he squeezed her hands, not ever wanting to let go.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pls leave opinions pls


	6. No, No, No

Grantaire was hiding. He refused to leave his room, even for booze, despite the fact that Feuilly had taken to sleeping in his closet. He had tried to go too far and Enjolras had pushed him away. It had taken him three days to get over it. Well, he still wasn’t over it and he hated himself. Curling up facing the wall, he sighed a closed his eyes, willing himself to sleep without glimpses of gorgeous blonde hair.

* * *

 

Feuilly was scared. He blamed alcohol for what had happened last week, but the fact remained that it had happened. He felt dirty and kept getting distracted at work. With a start he came back to reality, catching the bowl of paint that had almost fallen. Thank God his boss wasn’t around. 

‘One mistake and you’re out onto the streets!’ he had said. Feuilly couldn’t afford to lose his job. It was all he had. But his mind kept wandering back to warm arms, rough hands, exquisite pain… 

_ Crash _

Shit.

Marie felt awful. He shouldn’t know. He couldn’t know. He’d worry too much. She shifted the blanket, attempting to drape it in a way that would hide the blood spatter. She knew it was for nothing but, still, she could try. She knew the ruse was over when he grabbed onto her hands. 

“Marie? How long has this been going on?” She felt her heart sink.

“Well… I-I don’t know… It just… started one day, and-” She felt another coughing fit kick in. Doubling over, she covered her mouth, trying to hide how much blood she was coughing up nowadays. Her eyes filled with tears, she knew she couldn’t keep this up much longer. She was dying and now not only was her daughter forced to watch, but he was as well. And she couldn’t push him away. He wouldn’t leave again, not with her in this sorry state.

Combeferre pulled Marie close, hugging her tightly. This was all his fault. If he would have stood up to his father… Fighting back tears, he stepped back.

“I…” he struggled to control his voice. “I  can fix this,” He glanced at his bag. “But I don’t have the right equipment here… I-I’ll be back. I just have to get some things from a friend. I-I promise I will be back. He took off from the house to the Musian.

* * *

 

Musichetta’s shift had barely begun, but she had already had to deal with far to many drunk men, thank you very much. It wasn’t even night! Why were so many people already 6 shots deep? She saw Enjolras  sitting in a corner and physically saged with relief. He wouldn’t be piss drunk at 3 in the afternoon. She was making her way towards him, dodging the drunks who would try to pull her into their lap, when Combeferre practically kicked the door down. 

The cafe went silent as the door swung open. Combeferre stod in the doorway momentarily, looking more frazled than he’d ever looked in his life. He quickly spotted Musichetta and sprinted towards her, grabbing her by the shoulders.

“Where is Joly?!” He almost looked like he was going to cry, faint, and throw up all at the same time. Now, she was used to a panicked Joly, but she had never seen Combeferre look to terrified. It unnerved her.

“Calm down, Combeferre! Relax! It’s okay, sit down for a moment…” She led him to the chair next to Enjolras and nearly had to push him into it. 

“Now, what’s going on? Why do you need to see Joly so badly?” Combeferre quickly jumped back up.

“No! I can’t… I need… I need Joly… to…” He collapsed back into the chair and broke down crying. The whole story started spilling out of him.

Musichetta stood in shock. She looked over at Enjolras to see if he knew anything about this, and judging by his face, he didn’t. She shouted to her boss, stating that there was an emergency and she had to leave. Honestly, she was kind of glad to have an excuse to leave early. She grabbed Combeferre by the arm and started dragging him out the door. 

“Come on. I think he’s still home at the apartment.” At that, Combeferre picked up the pace. The two of them practically ran to the flat. They burst through the door, screaming for Joly.

* * *

 

In another part of town, Feuilly was crying too. Well, trying not to cry. He was out on the streets, with no job, no real place to stay (except Grantaire’s closet… in Courfeyrac’s room… in Jehan’s house…), and no references. He stalked through the fetid streets, cursing his life, Bahorel, Enjolras, and basically everyone in his life. Since he was staring at the ground, he didn’t see the person in front of him until they were colliding and he was on the ground, with a rather large hand in front of his face, offering to help him up. He recognized that hand. It was Bahorel’s.

With a strength that he didn’t know he possessed, Feuilly leaped to his feet and attacked the other man’s chest with his fists, venting all of his anger. 

“This is all your fault! I hate you! I lost my job because of you! Why did you have to go and make me fall in love with you…?” He broke down crying and fell against a very surprised Bahorel’s chest, clinging to his vest.

* * *

 

Bahorel stared down at the little ginger, crying on his chest and blinked. Slowly, so as not to startle the other man, he wrapped his arms around Feuilly, holding him close. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean…” He trailed off when Feuilly looked up at him with a tear stained face.

“Shut up and kiss me…” Bahorel happily complied. Feuilly practically melted into his chest, and Bahorel gripped him tighter. Feuilly pulled away much too quickly for Bahorel’s taste, panting and pink. His eyes darted somewhere over Bahorel’s shoulder, and turned bright red. Puzzled, Bahorel looked over, only to find a rather stunned looking Enjolras. He grinned and greeted his friend.

“Good Afternoon, Enjolras! Is there anything I can help you with?”

* * *

 

Joly screeched and dropped the beaker he was working with when the door burst open. 

“Good God in Heaven! What the hell is your problem!?” Combeferre immediately went to his extensive medical library and started rifling through books rather violently. Joly jumped up, trying to stop him from making a mess.

“ Whoa! What the hell are you doing?!?” He grabbed Combeferre’s arm in an attempt to pull him away from the bookshelves when Musichetta pulled him back.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure what’s going on, but I’m pretty sure his old… lover… is sick. I don’t really remember all of the details, but… I think he said it was Consumption… He said he needs something to help her, just please… don’t bother him. I’ve never seen him this distraught.” Joly’s eyes grew wide.

“Consumption…?” His resperation increased as a panic attack began. Consumption???

“I… he… can’t…” he collapsed back into a chair, unable to stay standing while processing this information. He was pulled from his thoughts when, evidently, Combeferre found what he was looking for and dashed out the door. Joly looked up at Musichetta, in shock. She started laughing at him.

“Oh stop, you look like a fish out of water. Just let him be, he’s found his love again. You would act just as strange if you were in his shoes.” Joly was astonished.

“Combeferre? In love?” Combeferre didn’t love...

* * *

 

Combeferre dashed back to Marie’s house, clutching the bag to his chest. He could fix this. He could make her better. He had to. He owed her that much at least. If she died, what would become of Aimee? His daughter… Revolution was no place for a young girl and he wasn’t sure how good at parenting he was… Frankly the idea terrified him. But enough of that, he had a life to save. 

Combeferre burst through the door, breathing heavily. 

“Marie! Marie, I found it…” he went to the living room and found her with her daughter - their daughter - in her lap.

“I found it. Aimee… could you, uh, give us some space?” He kneeled down and smiled at her, trying to be reassuring. She slowly slipped off her mother’s lap and went to hide behind the chair, peeking around at him. Aimee gently touched his shoulder, pulling his attention back to her.

“Combeferre… Will this really help?”

“I… I think so. It might.” He gently took her hand. Glancing up at her, he took a deep breath.

“Marie… I… I want to apologize for what I did. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry…” He dropped his gaze and reached towards his bag with a shaking hand. 

He felt Marie squeeze his hand, but he didn’t have the heart to squeeze back. He didn’t deserve any comfort from her. He didn’t deserve anything from her. If anything, he should be the one comforting her. He was pulled from his thoughts when he felt her hand on his chin, pulling him to look her in the eye. She was on the verge of crying, eyes full of tears, and he felt his heart break all over again.

“It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have disobeyed your father. I forgive you.” She pulled him closer, gently kissing him, almost as if she was trying to prove to him that she held no ill will, to prove that she had forgiven him. 

He nearly collapsed with relief and longing. Pulling her close, he stood, pulling her up to stand and wrapped his arms around her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck, deepening the kiss until she had to pull away to cough again. He held her up as she coughed, completely ignoring the blood that was spattering across his shirt. When she was through, he eased her back into the chair and knelt once more to search through his bag,

“Thank you,” her voice was scratchy from coughing. “I can’t believe you came back. At one point of time I was sure that you were dead because you never came back. Now, when you are here, I’m sick. Dieing. How is that going to work?”

“You’re not going to die, I-”

“Combeferre, I’m not a fool. I know that I have consumption and that it can’t be fixed. The only reason I’ve made it this far is because I’ve had to fight for Aimee. To make sure she’s safe. I know that there’s nothing you can do for me. I know-”

“Don’t. Please. Just, don’t…” His voice broke. Had she missed him? Had she forgotten him like he had her? Had she moved on with someone else or immersed herself in something? As he thought, he gathered his things together.

* * *

 

Aimee had snuck out when her mama had started kissing the doctor. Why were grown ups so gross?  She had started making her way back towards that cafe that Gavroche had brought her to, hoping to find him again. She wanted somebody to play with, and to maybe talk about her mama and the man. She was maybe three quarters of the way there when she spotted Gavroche with a group of other people. 

“Gavroche!” She ran up to them, waving wildly. The girl he was with smiled down at her.

“Hi there! Gavroche, who is your friend?”

“This is Aimee! We met when she stole stuff and we ran from the police!” Aimee smiled up at them and both of the grown ups went pale.

“Oh, uh… Gavroche you know better than to steal… that’s not… uh…”  
“But, ‘Ponine! She needed the food! She has to take care of her mama!” 

“Oh, uhm…” The man knelt down to look at her.

“Hello Aimee. Are you hungry, little one?” She dipped her head. She was really hungry, but mama didn’t like it when she asked strangers for things. But, this grown up was friends with Gavroche so that made it okay, right?

“Uhm… kinda…” The man smiled.

“Well, Aimee, how about you come with Gavroche, Eponine, and I back to my flat and we can make some supper?”

“Okay! Thank you, sir!” The man stood back up and offered her his hand.

“My name is Marius.”

“Okay, Marius!”


	7. You Come Over, Unannounced

Musichetta was back at the Musain, unfortunately. Her little emergency didn’t last long enough to warrant the whole day off, and she knew that if she didn’t go back she would get in trouble. She really couldn’t afford to lose this job. And, of course, today had been another hard day full of grabby, loud, drunk men. Honestly, Combeferre’s drama helped keep her sane that day. She couldn’t stop thinking about him and his lover. It was just all so romantic! It was almost like one of the romance novels she loved so much. It was a welcome distraction from all the customers, but sometimes, a particularly awful customer would yank her back to her senses. Literally. She hoped the amis got here soon, then there would be less room for violent, drunk, stupid men.

* * *

 

Combeferre had stayed with Marie for quite some time. They had talked for hours, not about anything in particular. Just catching up with one another after years apart. 

“I missed you every day. Aimee is so much like you. She has your eyes, your nose. I’m sure you can guess what it was like here over the years, but I still don’t know much about you. What’s happened to you since we last saw each other?” Combeferre felt his face go pale. How do you tell someone that you had forgotten about the? Maybe he didn’t have to… 

“As you know, I started medical school. My friends and I planning a revolution, I guess you could say. We want to change the government. Help the people.” He saw Marie’s face go pale and his heartbeat quickened. What had happened? Was she okay? Was she suddenly getting sicker? 

“A-a Revolution? Yo-you could be hurt! You could be killed! I can’t lose you, not now, not like that! Not when you’re here again…” He could hear the fear in her voice.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. We’re still planning.” He gave her a small laugh.

“I’m not sure if it’s ever really going to happen. It might just be a grand dream.” He could see her visibly sag with relief at his words.

“I’m sorry. I can tell how much this means to you, it’s just…”

“No, it’s fine. Really.” He took her hands and gazed into her eyes.

“I would rather be here with you.” Aimee smiled and gently kissed him. He felt like the luckiest man in the world in that moment. When she pulled away, she smiled and caressed his cheek.

“I think I may just be the luckiest girl in all of Paris…”

* * *

 

Joly wandered into the Musain, looking for Musichetta. He hadn’t seen Bousett for a while and he was feeling incredibly lonely. Going up to the bar, he slid onto a stool and waited. He was bored and he wanted attention. He practically jumped to his feet when Bousset limped into the cafe.

“Bousset! What happened?” His inner medical student exploded to life. He forced the other man to sit down and elevate his leg.

“You have to be more careful dear! Musichetta!” he yelled over his shoulder. “Bring brandy please!”

* * *

 

Bousset laughed. It was just so funny how Joly overreacted every time he hurt himself… which was a lot.

“Joly, I’m fine! It’s just a bruise, you know how clumsy I can be!” Musichetta appeared with the bottle of brandy.

“What’s happened this time?”

“Don’t laugh! He probably broke his leg or something, I wouldn’t be surprised!” Joly started attempting to roll his pant leg up to get a better look at his shin. Bousset pushed his hands away and placed his leg back down on the ground. He stood up and walked in a circle to show them that he was fine.

“I just tripped down the stairs again. I’m fine Musichetta, you should just ignore him, you know how he can be.” Musichetta laughed and hugged Joly around the shoulders.

“Joly he’s fine. He’s walking, talking, laughing, just let him be.” She kissed each of them on the cheek and made her way back into the back again, continuing her work. Joly slumped down into a chair with his arms crossed, pouting. Bousset sighed.

“Oh Joly, you know we’re just teasing.” Joly refused to respond.

“Joly… You know we love you, overreactions and all.” He lifted Joly’s chin up and looked him in the eyes.

“You are just too cute when you’re upset, do you know that?” Joly turned bright red and pulled him chin away from Bousset. Bousset smiled, he knew he’d gotten through to his stubborn, sweet boyfriend. Joly slowly reached for his sleeve, tugging to ask him to sit down

* * *

 

Cosette was out walking with her papa. She loved their daily walks, listening to the birds, watching the people go by. She liked to image little lives for everyone she saw on their walks, sometimes she and her papa would make it a game. They would each add little details until each passerby had rich, detailed lives. Today they had decided to walk by the local park. She loved to watch the children play, though sometimes it could be bittersweet. They reminded her of the childhood she missed. And all of the little beggar children reminded her of what her childhood was. That day she spotted two little beggar children in particular. The poor things. They were with a young couple.

‘A little family’ she thought to herself. Her heart ached for them. She wanted to help them, they deserved a better life. She looked to her father.

“Papa? I’ll be right back.”

“Where are you going?”

“I’d just like to give some money to that family over there. I’d like to help them.” Her papa smiled at her and kissed her cheek.

“Of course, my sweet girl.” She smiled and pulled her arm from his before making her was towards the two children. Upon reaching them, she crouched down to their level.

“Hello little ones…” They turned to her and shyly smiled.

“Hello…”

“Hi…”

“You two must be very hungry,” she held out a few coins. “Take these and go get yourselves something to eat, okay?” The two children tenitively took the coins and, upon realizing she wasn’t trying to trick them, broke out into big smiles.

“Thank you, mademoiselle!”

“Yeah, thank you!” They both wrapped their arms around her in a hug, which she gladdly returned.

“Have a good day now, little ones!”

“Bye!”

“Bye!” She smiled and waved as she made her way back to her papa, happy that she’d helped.

* * *

 

Bahorel watched as Enjolras blinked a few times in surprise. He’d obviously not expected to be noticed. 

“Uhm.. No, Bahorel… I don’t believe that there is anything you can help with with. Continue on with… uh… whatever it is you were doing…” Bahorel shrugged and picked Feuilly up bridal style and started off toward his house. The ginger squeaked and clung to his neck.

“What are you doing?!” he hissed. The larger man grinned.

“Taking you home. Now calm down.”

* * *

 

Joly slid into Bousset’s lap once again. For some reason he felt very secure there. There wasn’t a meeting that he didn’t end up there. He knew it bugged Enjolras, but he just couldn’t help it. Bousset wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close, Joly snuggled deeper into his chest. He waved at Musichetta as she walked by and was met with an exasperated sigh and an eye roll in return. He didn’t really care, she always found his need to physical contact amusing. He watched as she went from table to table, cleaning up glasses and wiping the tables down. As she got closer he called out to her.

“Hey Musichetta! What’s up?” She groaned and gave them an annoyed look.

“Really you two? I’m working! It’s a monday!” She turned around and went back to work. Joly pouted, he wanted attention.

“So?” Jehan started laughing behind him and Musichetta turned to them and sighed.

“There really is no winning with you two is there?” She kissed them both before turning back to her work.

“You two are so frustrating sometimes, but I still love you.”

* * *

 

Jehan sighed when he heard a knock and sat up, wiping his mouth.

“I’ll be right back, okay?” he said in response to Courfeyrac’s whine. He slid off the bed and straightened his clothes, walking to the door as nonchalantly as possible. He opened the door.

“Oh! Enjolras! What can I do for you?”

“Hello Jehan, do you know where Grantaire is? I would like to speak with him…”

“Of course! He’s in his room. You know where it is right?” He was anxious to get back to Courfeyrac and really couldn’t care less about those two. If it was meant to be, it would be. Nothing he could do would change it. Enjolras thanked him and went to knock on Grantaire’s door.

* * *

 

Grantaire heard Enjolras knock on the door, but he wasn’t going to answer. Hopefully if he didn’t answer, he’d eventually go away. Then he heard Enjolras open the door. Shit. He closed his eyes and breathed as shallowly as possible.

‘Please don’t let him find me, please…’ Who he was pleading with he didn’t know. But it seemed like the right thing to do… Suddenly he heard Enjolras trip and hit the ground hard, swearing as he hit the floor. He burst out of the closet in a panic.

“Are you okay?!” He cursed himself under his breath for leaving a mess and for coming out of the closet. But it was to late now. Enjolras knew he was here. He straightened his clothes and cleared his throat. 

“C-can I help you?” What did he want? What was he here for? Questions flew from Grantaire’s mind faster than he could comprehend. There was a meeting today, was Enjolras here to tell him not to come? Oh God, he hoped not. That would be the final straw. He would probably kill himself.

“Uhm… no, I’m fine. Uh… were you hiding from me?” Grantaire paled.

“N-no! I was just... “ he blushed and stared at the ground. 

“Grantaire… why… why would you hide from  _ me _ ?” Grantaire looked up at him in astonishment. 

“Why am I hiding from you? Why wouldn’t I be hiding from you? Do you even remember last week?!” He watched as Enjolras turned bright red from the exposed skin on his neck to the tips of his ears.

“What happened after that you idiot!” Grantaire turned away and clenched his hands. Why was he making this so hard? Sometimes Enjolras could be so dense!

“Grantaire… do you think I’ve been avoiding you…?” Grantaire looked at the ground. He wasn’t going to dignify that with an answer, it seemed pretty clear that be had been avoiding him.

“‘Taire… I would never do that. I got so busy with planning that I never had time to see you…”

“I… I thought you wouldn’t want to see me....” Grantaire gave a small laugh. “I haven’t left my room all week.” He couldn’t look Enjolras in the eye. Grantaire froze as he felt Enjolras wrap his arms around him from behind in a hug. He was in shock for a moment. So… Enjy really did want to see him? And he had a nickname now? He hesitantly turned and hugged the revolutionary back. After a moment, Enjolras pulled back and they stared at each other for a moment, both of them unsure as to what to do next. Eventually, Enjolras awkwardly broke the silence.

“So, uh… want to go for a walk…?”


	8. Dressed Up, Like Somebody Else

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for spamming you with multiple chapters, but we've been working on this for at least 5 years. And we're done. We restarted it at least 3 times, this is at least draft 4. Kill us.

Cosette was making her way back towards her papa, who was now speaking to a couple farther down the street, when she felt someone touch her on the shoulder. She turned around to find the mother of the two little children she had just spoken too.

“Oh! Hello!”

“Hello! I just wanted to return this…” She held out the coins that she had given the children.

“Oh! No, that okay! I want them to have it!”  
“Oh no, please. It’s too much.”

“No, really! I just wanted to help, and frankly, money is really the only way I can help. Just a little bit to make life a little easier for a little family.”

“Family?” She looked puzzled, which in turn puzzled Cosette.

“Aren’t they your children?”

“Oh goodness, no! Gavroche is my brother and he little girl is his friend!” Cosette felt herself start to blush fiercely.

“Oh Gosh, I’m so sorry! I just assumed!” The other girl started to laugh.

“It’s okay, it’s not the first time that has happened! I’m Eponine.”

“I’m Cosette, wonderful to meet you!”

* * *

 

“Uhm… want to go for a walk…?”

“Of course!” He grabbed Enjolras’ hand and pulled him as quickly as possible past the master bedroom. They walked for quite some time in silence, but it didn’t bother Grantaire. He was just happy that Enjolras was here. With him. In public. Holding his hand.  

“There’s another meeting tonight… I know you don’t believe in our cause… but will you come anyways?”

“I’ll come,” Grantaire said, swinging their hands gently. Every time someone gave them an odd look, he glared back until they looked away, but inside he was skipping through a field of daisies. The only thing that could make this better would be alcohol… Suddenly Enjolras perked up and turned to him.

“Oh yeah, I think you’ll find this interesting. On the way over to your place, I ran into Feuilly and Bahorel. They were kissing… in the middle of the street.” Grantaire burst out laughing.

“That’s fantastic!” he surreptitiously moved closer to Enjolras, happy for his friends.  Enjolras smiled.

“Well, I guess Bahorel finally made his move and it payed off. Come to think of it… are any of us single anymore?”

“Combeferre is. Oh, and Marius as well.”

“Oh, I’d forgotten about Marius… But as for Combeferre, I think he was single, but after what happened today I’m not so sure…”

“Wait, what happened today?”

“He ran into the cafe screaming for Joly. He looked absolutely terrified. Then, when Musichetta tried to calm his down, he broke down and told us his former lover was sick and that he needed Joly. I’ve never seen him so upset before, so I’m not sure anymore.

“Whoa, Combeferre? Really? Wow…” Grantaire fell silent, thinking about all of the group didn’t know about their enigmatic guide.

“Yeah, I know. Out of all of us I never would have picked Combeferre to be the one having trouble with an ex-lover… I honestly would have thought it would be Courfeyrac…” Grantaire chuckled, Enjolras was right. It would definitely be Courfeyrac who would have the most trouble with ex-lovers. Suddenly, he remembered the meeting.

“Hey… when does the meeting start again?” Enjolras looked at his watch and cursed.

“In about five minutes. We’ll be late if we don’t leave now.”

* * *

 

Cosette had been talking to Eponine and Cosette for a while now. She found that they got along quite well, especially Eponine and herself. She found that she was having more fun with them than she had had in a long time. They had spent quite some time sitting in the park when Eponine spoke up.

“Cosette, would you like to go on a walk with us?” She smiled brightly, happy to have a new friend.

“That would be lovely, thank you. Where would you like to go?” She was glad to be able to spend time with another girl her age. Perhaps now, Papa would stop bothering her about being lonely… 

They walked a few blocks before the children tired out. Marius had to pick up Gavroche, who had completely fallen asleep, and Aimee wasn’t too far behind.

“Perhaps we should take the children home, they look like they could use a nap.” Eponine chuckled at that.

“I think that’s a good idea. We’re awfully far away from home though.” Cosette frowned, unsure of what to do, when Marius spoke up. 

“My flat isn’t too far away, we could bring them there to nap.” Eponine smiled.

“That would be wonderful, Marius, thank you!” They quickly made their way to Marius’ flat, Eponine having to pick Aimee up and carry her the rest of the way. They lay the two children down on the bed, tucking them in to keep them warm.

“I can stay here and watch them. I need to catch up on some school work.” 

“Thank you, Marius, that’s awfully generous of you.” The two left, leaving him to his schoolwork. They walked for several more hours, getting lost in conversation. By the time they tired, they had neared Cosette’s house, so they decided to stop in. 

“Papa! I’m home!” Her papa peeked into the hallway from the kitchen.

“Hello! Who is your friend, Cosette?”

“Oh, my name is Eponine, sir.”

“Wonderful to meet you, Eponine, my name is Jean.”

“Papa, we’re going to go out into the garden for a while, is that alright?”

“Of course, my dear. I’ll call you in once it’s time for supper.” The two of them went to the garden and resumed their conversation, this time on Cosette’s favorite bench, shaded by flowers. Cosette liked talking to Eponine. She got along with her better than anyone she had ever met. She hoped that they might be able to get to know each other better.

As they walked they made casual conversation about the meeting.

“What are we discussing today at the meeting?”

“I’m not sure yet… We need to set a date for the revolution soon though…” Grantaire jolted to a stop.

“What? You’re really serious about that? You don’t know the people like I do, Enjolras. They will not rise. Even if they do, it will be too late.” He stopped and took both if the revolutionary’s hands, forcing him to face him. 

“Trust me, Enjolras. This isn’t going to work. And if you don’t trust me, talk to Feuilly. I know he knows how ‘the people’ think.”

“Grantaire, how could it not work? Have you seen how many people show up to our rallys? We’ve put so much work into this, it couldn’t fail.”

“I don’t care how many people come to the rallies, Enjolras. When the time comes they will run away. Close their doors. Hide behind their shutters and abandon you to your death. They will not come.” He almost added ‘and I will be among them’ but he didn’t. He didn’t want to admit that he was a terrible coward who hated life, but he was terrified of death. 

“Grantaire… I… We have to go. It’s time for the meeting to start.” Grantaire snorted.

“You just don’t get it do you?” he turned away, blinking back tears. 

“Have fun at your meeting, fearless leader…” He walked away.

All the way to the cafe, Enjolras thought about what Grantaire had said. Was Grantaire right? Would the people abandon them? He could only hope not. He was pulled from his thoughts once he entered the cafe and he heard his name.

“Enjolras! Where’s Grantaire? I thought he was with you?”

“We had a fight. He left. I’m not sure where he went. Where is everyone else?”

“I don’t know if anyone else is coming… Are you okay?”

“yeah , I guess I’m okay… What do you mean no one else is coming?”

“Uhm… Well… We’re assuming that Combeferre isn’t coming, and Courfeyrac and I stopped by Bahorel’s and… ugh.” Joly shuddered at the memory of what he found at Bahorel’s house. Enjolras sighed. Grantaire may be right. He couldn’t even get his own group to work together, how would he command an army?

“What’s the point of this meeting if almost half of us don’t show up?”

“W-we can still get things done!” Enjolras sighed, his head down on the table.

“No, Courfeyrac, I really don’t think we can. I think… I think we need to get the whole group together for a conversation…”

* * *

 

It took quite some time, but he managed to corral everyone into the Musain. Well, everyone except for Grantaire. He knew there was no way he would be able to persuade him to come, so he figured it was time to begin. He cleared his throat, gaining the attention of the room. 

“Well… hello everyone. I know it seems… odd… that I would track you all down like this, but some… developments have come to my attention.” Everyone in the room exchanged confused glances.

“Perhaps I’m not making sense. Uhm… Feuilly, I need your honest opinion.” Feuilly looked like he might pass out at hearing his name called out.

“Y-yes?”

“Do you think the people will rise with us during our revolution, or do you think they will leave us to die.”

“U-u-u-uh, I, uhm… I-I-I-I....”

“I know it’s hard to believe, but I won’t be angry, no matter your answer. I know I have a habit of becoming quite… terrible… when I become upset, but I promise you I won’t get angry.”

“I… I, uh… I don’t think they’ll join us… Or if they do, it won’t be for long. There’s too much at stake for them to risk anything like a revolution…” Enjolras sighed.

“That’s exactly what I was afraid of. Grantaire said the same thing…” The rest of the amis exchanged confused glances. Enjolras actually… listened? To someone but himself?

“Thank you, Feuilly, for your honesty. This is why I wanted to bring you all here. I fear, and if it were a few days ago I would never have found myself saying this, that Feuilly was correct in saying that they - we - have too much to lose. It may be best to… terminate… our efforts.” The room erupted in chaos, everyone shouting over one another. Some voices angry, some voices scared, maybe even a few pleased somewhere in the mix. 

“Now, calm down! Calm down!” No one could even hear him.

“QUIET.” The din of the cafe slowly quieted down.

“Now. Hear me out. Bahorel, Feuilly. What would happen should one of you fall during the fight? What would you do then?” The two in question pulled each other closer, staring at the ground quietly.

“Or you, Courfeyrac, or Jehan. What if one of you fell? Or Musichetta, or Joly, or Bousset? Or you, Marius? What would your grandfather do should you die?” Marius had the good sense to look ashamed, no matter how estranged they were he still didn’t want his grandfather to suffer another heartbreak, lose another child.

“Or you, Combeferre? What would you do should you fall? What would your lover, your child do?” Combeferre looked positively terrified. He obviously didn’t want to think about what would happen to them without him - especially considering how little time Marie had left on this earth.

“We all have much to much to lose. If no one else would rise with us, how could we possibly win? We would be slaughtered in the streets, leaving behind families - children - with no one else. We can’t afford to cause suffering for nothing.” The cafe was quiet, everyone thinking over what Enjolras had just said. It was several minutes until someone broke the silence. Everyone was startled when Combeferre cleared his throat and stood.

“I will, uhm… I will be the first to say that… I agree. And that… even if you all choose to carry on with our plans… I… I will not be joining you.” He slowly sat back down, chin held up in defiance against anyone who would try to stop him from leaving. Soon, others were standing up and speaking.

“I… I can’t go through with it either. I have… I have too much to lose.”

“I can’t do that to my family. I… I am not going to carry on either.”

“I won’t either.” Soon, everyone had agreed. Their plans were finished. Enjolras stood again, drawing their attention back to him.

“I want to say… thank you. Thank you for supporting this decision. However, I would… I would like to motion that we still… we still meet here. At least once a week. Otherwise, we may… we may lose touch. And I wouldn’t want to lose so many good friends.” He nervously stood. Waiting for an answer. He rarely released his emotions out so plainly to the world, and he was incredibly uncomfortable. Soon, however, he felt his nervousness ease as everyone began to agree again. They began embracing each other, glad to not lose so many friends at once. Enjolras felt happier than he had in a long time. However, he knew there was still one person he had to tell. Grantaire.

* * *

 

Grantaire was sulking. He was attempting to drown his sorrows in alcohol, but it honestly wasn’t working. He just couldn’t get the image of Enjolras broken, bleeding, and dead out of his mind. He didn’t think he would be able to go on if Enjolras died, not after all that had happened now. He was sulking at the dining room table when he heard a knock on the door. He groaned and pulled himself out of his chair.

“God, Courfeyrac! Did you forget your damn keys again!? Why can’t you just-” He cut himself short upon opening the door and finding a rather sheepish looking Enjolras. He scowled.

“I don’t want to talk to you.” He went to close the door when Enjolras grabbed the fram.

“Wait! Please, I need to talk to you. We… There… Uhm… It’s a long story. Can I please come in?” Grantaire sighed and walked from the door, leaving it open. He went back to his table and to his alcohol, determined to drink as long as this interaction was going to happen. It was even harder to forget when Enjolras was in the room with him.

“Look. I… I listened to what you had to say.” He’d listened to him? What? 

“I talked with the rest of the amis and… they agreed with you. We won’t have anyone to stand with us, and without anyone… We won’t make a difference. We won’t even make it through the night. So we… we decided to… to disband the revolution.” Grantaire’s head snapped up. Was he that drunk or did Enjolras just say what he think he just said.

“What?”

“We disbanded the revolution. We all decided that we had too much to lose. Myself included.” Enjolras reached out and grasped Grantaire’s hand. Grantaire was shocked, he barely even felt his own tears dripping down his cheeks. Enjolras looked at him with concern, leaning across the table to wipe his tears.

“What’s wrong? Did I say something -” Grantaire cut him off by practically launching himself across the table to pull the blonde into a tight hug. 

“I take you approve?” Grantaire nodded vigorously, unable to produce coherent words.

“Good. I… I couldn’t lose you.” Grantaire felt himself start to sob, and he sank to his knees, pulling Enjolras down with him. He’d never felt this happy in his life. His Apollo loved him back. And he wasn’t going to go get himself killed either. 

They stayed that way for hours, both holding onto the other until the sun had set long ago. With that, Enjolras offered his flat, and they both made their way out onto the streets, hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're disappointed in y'all. None of you picked up on the fact that we named each chapter a lyric from complicated by Avril Lavigne :(

**Author's Note:**

> WELCOME TO HELL WELCOME TO HELL WELCOME TO H E L L!!!!!!!!!


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